Mistaken Identity
by EFAW
Summary: There's a demon killing working girls in LA, and a hunter has just caught the wrong demon. Demon!Wes AU.


**Summary:** There's a demon killing working girls in LA, and a hunter has just caught the wrong demon. Demon!Wes AU.

 **Warnings:** Demon!Wes AU. Mentions of torture. Some swearing. Outsider POV. Wes makes a lot of threats but he's really a big old cuddly teddy bear.

 **Disclaimer:** I neither own nor am affiliated with Common Law in any way. I just love these characters and I love playing with them.

 **Another addition to the lovely Demon!Wes AU I've got going. Enjoy! This is part 6 of my Steeped In Sin series.**

 **OOOO**

 **Mistaken Identity**

" _Don't be deceived by appearances—men and things are not what they seem."_

— _William Booth_

 **XXXX**

He's lounging in a corner booth, nursing his third beer and eyeing the way the pretty waitress moves in those heels, when the guy shuffles up to the table. He looks nervous, wringing his hands, and his eyes keep flicking towards the people around him.

"Um, are you, uh…Earl?" the man says, looking warily hopeful. "Earl Collins?"

Earl tips his beer bottle in salute. "Sure am. Welcome to my office."

After a moment, the other man slides into the opposite side of the booth.

Earl stalls, takes a swallow as he studies the stranger. The man has _that look_ about him, the one that says he's stumbled into something he truly doesn't understand and he's in over his head.

He also looks scared, nervous, and a little bit like he's doubting his own sanity.

Earl knows that look.

He sets his beer down. "So, what can I do for ya?"

The other man starts, like he wasn't expecting the question. Maybe he's just out of sorts. It happens. "I, um…" He licks his lips, gaze flicking nervous around the room, like anyone cares about two men meeting in a booth in a bar. "They say you're a hunter."

"That's right," Earl allows, tipping his glass back. "And you are?"

The other man licks his lips again, clasping his hands together. "Travis. My name is Travis. I…um…" Again his eyes roam the bar, not stopping on anyone for too long. "I need your help."

"With what?"

Travis takes a breath, licks his lips one more time. Then he leans in, lowering his voice nice and conspiratorially.

"I need your help hunting a demon."

 **XXXX**

"So what's your story?"

His passenger starts like he'd been in a daze, turning to him. "Sorry, what?"

"Your story." Earl waves a hand. "What got you into this? Everyone's got one."

Travis's lips twist. "I don't…"

"Come on, what's the harm in telling?"

Looking out the window again, Travis runs his hand over his mouth. "Yeah, I guess."

He takes a minute to compose himself; Earl doesn't push. It can be tough, sometimes, talking about these things.

Finally, Travis turns back to him. "I'm, um, I'm a cop," he starts, and Earl nods encouragingly. "And I've got this partner. He is…" He chuckles. "He's a pain in my ass, but I'd die for him, you know?"

Earl does know. He keeps nodding.

Travis takes a shaky breath, looks out the window again. "Great guy. Best I've ever known. I'd die for him and he'd die for me and it's just…"

He pressed his hand to his mouth again, blinks rapidly. Earl gives him a moment.

Finally, Travis swallows. "Anyway. Few weeks ago, we got this case. Some guy's running around, murdering prostitutes. Butchering them up. Body parts everywhere, seasoned cops throwing up at crime scenes, it was a _mess._ "

"I know it," Earl says. He knows it because this is the case that brought him to LA, headlines in the paper that hinted at more serious rumblings than a simple serial killer.

"Right." Travis nods. "Anyway, this case, we were getting nowhere with it. Clues weren't leading anywhere, witnesses were changing their stories left and right, every turn just led to another dead end. We were stuck, and more working girls were ending up dead."

Earl suspects he knows where this is going.

"We finally got a lead. An ATM camera caught one of the snatchings. My partner had gone home for the day, I caught the call, so I decided to check it out, right then and there. And what did I see?"

"You partner?" Earl guesses.

Travis laughs sardonically and confirms, "My partner." He stares out the window, fingers tapping against the door. "I mean, I couldn't believe it at first, you know? I thought it was doctored, it _had_ to be. His eyes were all black."

Yeah, that's where Earl suspected this was going.

"But he didn't show up for work the next day," Travis continues. "Hasn't shown up since. His place is empty, no one's seen him…he just disappeared."

"How long ago?" Earl asks. Always good to have all the information beforehand.

"Three days." Travis bites his lip. "I started doing research, looking into it. I mean, I know demons are real, everyone knows that. But…but that's the stuff that happens to _other people,_ you know?" He takes a shaky breath, runs his hand over his face. "I just couldn't believe…but the evidence was right there in front of me. So I started asking around, and I got your name." Travis musters up something like a smile. "My partner's missing, possessed by god-knows what, and I figured you could help me find him."

Earl heaves a breath, does some quick math in his head, and makes his decision. "Well, good news is, I'm pretty sure I know where your partner is."

Travis brightens up in an instant. "You do?"

"Yeah." Earl gnashes his teeth, wishing he hadn't given up smoking. "Yeah, I do. Only I don't think he's your partner anymore."

The other man just stares blankly at him. "What do you mean?"

Earl sighs. "Look, Travis, the thing about demons is, they don't care about their vessels. They just don't. They ride 'em hard until the body wears out or they get kicked out, and then they find someone else. Your partner's gone."

"But…" Travis's throat works. "But it's only been three days."

"It's been a lot longer than that," Earl says, as gently as he can. "Sorry, but your partner's gone."

"I…I don't…" Travis bows his head, hands covering his face. Earl can hear him breathing, harsh and uneven, but it doesn't sound like he's crying. Earl can respect that.

"You alright?" he asks quietly.

"Sorry," comes the muffled reply. "I just…I need to process. Give me a minute."

Earl leans back. "Take all the time you need."

 **XXXX**

He pulls the truck up in front of an abandoned warehouse half an hour outside the city. It's dark, the windows boarded over, but there're tracks from his tires in the gravel out front and a small light above the door.

"This is it?" Travis stares at the building in a mix of surprise and disgust.

"This is it." Earl shuts off the van, takes a moment. "Now, I have something to tell you."

Travis shifts, turns so he's facing Earl fully.

"I came here on a job. Saw the murders in the paper and checked it out. Lo and behold, it was a demon doing it. The one in your partner." Earl nods his head towards the warehouse. "I got him inside there."

Those blue eyes light up with hope. "Then you—"

"No." Earl cuts that line of reasoning off quick. "Remember what I said? Your partner's _gone_. Hoping for more is just plain stupid."

Travis deflates. "Right."

Earl nods. "Now this guy, he ain't talking. I went at him a while, but he's stubborn. Left him for a few hours, and maybe it'll soften 'im up, but if it doesn't, we're gonna have to get tough. And it's gonna be hard, but you just have to remember. This thing isn't your partner anymore. Hasn't been for weeks now. You get weak on me, you falter, you're gonna get us both killed."

Travis nods solemnly, mouth set in a grim line. "Right. Okay. I understand."

If there's one thing Earl hates, it's letting amateurs in while he's working a job. But this is the partner of the vessel inside, _and_ he's a cop who knows about the case. What's the harm in letting him in?

And if it looks like Travis is about to break, Earl can always knock him out and finish the interrogation himself.

"Alright. Let's do this." He climbs out of the truck; Travis follows suit, eyeing the warehouse suspiciously.

Earl leads the way through a side door he'd jimmied open four days before. The warehouse is empty, a huge, echoing space, dark except for one small patch of light in the center, illuminated by a floor lamp Earl bought and dragged here.

There's a devil's trap drawn on the floor—painted on, actually, he's heard enough horror stories about chalk lines and other non-permanent substances to take caution—and in the center of the trap is a wooden chair. Tied hand and foot and chest to the chair is a man— _was_ a man, beaten and bloody, head hanging low.

One of their boots scuffs on the floor, and the demon's head snaps up, eyes black and livid. It fixates on them, and an annoyed sound comes out of its throat.

"What the hell took you so long?"

 **XXXX**

After three days of interrogation, this is a bit of a turn of events, but Earl is determined not to be deterred. He steps forward, all cocky swagger, ready to show amateur hour behind him how it is.

"So, you decided to talk," he says, tucking his thumbs in his belt loops. He'll show Travis how it's done, maybe even get him into the hunting business. There's been a dearth of good hunters since the world went to hell in a handbasket.

"Oh, shut up, redneck, I wasn't talking to you," the demon snaps, looking right past him.

Looking right at...

There's a click of a gun.

Earl whirls around and finds Travis standing there, a Glock in his hand, looking sheepish. "Sorry, man."

Well, _shit_.

"Christo," Earl spits. To one side, the demon in the chair flinches, the corner of his lip turning up in a snarl, but Travis doesn't so much as blink.

"Yeah, no, bona fide human here." Travis smiles apologetically, waving with the gun. "If you could come this way…"

Holding his hands out to his side, Earl allows himself to be led to the table he keeps his supplies on. If he can just get to one of his knives or maybe a bottle of holy water, break the glass and use it as a weapon…

Travis makes him sit before he can reach anything, hands wrapped around one of the legs of the table. "Really sorry about this, man," Travis says, pulling a zip-tie out of his pocket. Nice to see he came prepared.

"So what?" Earl spits, letting himself be tied to the table. "You working with the demon, Travis? If that's even your name."

"Oh, it's my name," Travis says, tucking his gun back into his holster once Earl is secured. "And it wasn't _all_ a lie. I really am a cop, and I really am working on the prostitute case. I just…fibbed a little."

"Hey!" the demon calls. "Can you cut the jabber and get me out of here?"

"Hold your horses, Wes!" Travis calls back. "I'm being polite, which is more than I can say for you, Mister I-disappeared-for-three-days-and-didn't-leave-a-message."

"How was I supposed to do that," the demon growls, "when I was _kidnapped_ , you fucking _moron._ "

"I'm sure you would have come up with something!" Travis turns to Earl. "See, the thing is, that's my partner in there."

"I know." Earl keeps looking between the two of them. "He's possessed by a demon."

"Ah. No." Travis's face goes sheepish again. "One of my little fibs. I should clarify. My partner _is_ the demon, not the nerdy guy he's wearing."

"Excuse you, _nerdy?_ " the demon screeches. "Oh, when I get my hands on you, Travis—!"

"You're a huge nerd and you know it, babe!" Travis calls back. He smiles at Earl again. "See, there really _is_ a demon butchering working girls, and my partner and I were investigating. Only, a few days ago, my partner went missing."

Earl looks at the demon again, fidgeting with its bonds and looking real disgruntled at still being tied up. "But…it came from a crime scene," he says weakly. "I followed it _from_ the crime scene."

"I was _at_ the crime scene _because I was investigating it,_ " the demon growls, low and angry. "I swear to god, Travis, if you don't get over here and cut me loose I will tear your throat out with my _teeth_!"

Apparently, Travis is used to these sorts of threats, because he ignores it. "Yeah, see, Earl, you got the wrong demon." He gives Earl a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I mean, nice try, and you went with your gut, I can always appreciate that, believe me. I asked around, found out you were the one working this hunt, and here we are." He holds out his hands. "I'm gonna need my partner back now."

Earl continues to stare, and it's like his mind can't even work. He just can't comprehend what's happening here. "You mean you _work_ with it? A _demon?_ "

"Times have changed, man. He's not so bad once you get used to him," Travis says gently.

"I will pour salt in your bike engine, I swear!"

"He's a horrible bastard and I hate him on good days," Travis corrects without missing a beat. "I hope you do, and you burn your fingers right off!" he calls over his shoulder.

Earl really has no idea what's going on anymore. He feels like Alice in Wonderland—everything's gone topsy-turvy and nothing makes sense.

Travis claps him on the shoulder. "Now, Earl, good man. You have a choice here."

He blinks at the cop, parroting, "A choice?" like that will make the words make sense.

"A choice," Travis nods. "You can help us catch the killer. I'll let my partner go, and I promise, he won't do anything to you despite this whole mistaken-kidnapping thing."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," the demon grumbles, glaring at his bound wrists.

" _I promise_ he won't do anything to you _or I will pour holy water into his coffee_ ," Travis says cheerily. "Your other option, okay, is that you _don't_ help us catch the killer because you won't work with a demon, and you have to face the consequences of your actions."

Now Earl stares at him like he's grown a second head. "Are you…are you serious? I can't work with a _demon!_ "

"Oh, Earl," Travis sighs, dropping his hands. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that." He shakes his head sadly, reciting, "Earl Collins, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and torture of a police officer. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…"

 **XXXX**

"You know," Travis says as he cuts the demon loose. "For a powerful demon, you sure do get snatched by hunters a lot."

"Oh, bite me, Travis," the demon grumbles, rubbing its wrists.

Travis grins, kneeling down to get the ties on the demon's feet. "Is that an invitation?"

The demon stands. "I hate you."

"No you don't." While he's down there, Travis scrapes paint, breaking the devil's trap.

"I really do," the demon says as it stalks out, stomping right over to where Earl is.

And then it backhands his face.

"Hey!" Travis rushes over, interceding. "Man, I told him you wouldn't hurt him!"

"You told him I wouldn't hurt him _if_ he helped us with our investigation," the demon points out. "He's not. And, oh yeah, he's been torturing me for three days." It points to its face, burned and peeling. "He had a fuckton of holy water and salt. And I will _never_ get the blood out of my suit, okay, I'm a _little_ testy."

"Yeah, well, leave him alone now," Travis orders, subtly putting himself between Earl and the demon.

Earl isn't sure how he's supposed to feel about being protected by a man who willingly works with a demon.

The demon rolls its eyes, adjusting the cuffs of its ruined suit. "Whatever. Where are the keys? I need to get home so I can change."

"Man, you're not driving! It's not even your truck!"

The disdain on the demon's face is so _human_ Earl flashes back to his grandmother's similar look. "I'm certainly not letting _you_ drive." It comes up, pats Earl's pockets, and Earl tries not to recoil too much. "Ah, here we go." The demon pulls out his keys, holding them up in triumph. "I'll go get it started." It stalks out front, and after a minute Earl hears his truck start up.

Gently, Travis cuts the tie loose and fixes a pair of cuffs on Earl's wrists, helping him to his feet. "Like said," he says brightly, guiding Earl to the door, "he's not so bad. You get used to him. He kind of grows on you."

"Right," Earl says dazedly, letting himself be led like a dog.

"Well." Travis shrugs, helping Earl into the back of the truck. "It's an acquired taste."

The demon ignores them both and changes the radio station.

Which is how Earl finds himself handcuffed in the back of his own truck, listening to smooth jazz while a demon and a cop argue in the front seat.

Things were, he decides, a lot simpler back when the supernatural was a secret from the rest of the world. None of this good-demons-bad-demons stuff. Just plain old simple hunting.

"Are you kidding?" Travis squawks in outrage. "You don't even eat, what do you care where we go for lunch tomorrow?"

"Just because I don't eat the swill you pour down your throat," the demon says tersely, "doesn't mean I don't eat. I enjoy food, okay, it's one of my indulgences, and I refuse to let you ruin that for me, Travis." It taps the steering wheel with its thumbs. "I was thinking sushi."

Travis drops his head against the window. "God, kill me now."

Yeah, so much simpler back then.

 **OOOO**

 **I just loved the idea of writing a story from an outsider's point of view, one who doesn't know Travis and Wes and thus has no idea what's going on. Poor Earl is so confused. I like to think that Wes isn't willing to drop the charges, but Travis convinces him through nefarious means. And then Earl never goes back to LA ever again and retires to the countryside to herd sheep because at least sheep make** _ **sense**_ **.**

 **Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Let me know what you thought! Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.**

 **Until next time~!**


End file.
